


Make Sure French Comes

by Trash_Reads



Category: The OA (TV)
Genre: M/M, no beta no post preview we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-01-04 04:17:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18336020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash_Reads/pseuds/Trash_Reads
Summary: Started as a series of fics from moments in the show that I wanted to delve into a little deeper, but ended up as a full story following French/Buck throughout all of Part II, adding a little something more for us shippers. Complete.





	1. Make sure French comes

This story will follow the canon storyline, but with added scenes and thoughts from our boys. It will have language as the show does, and will have character death when the show does. If there is any sexual content, it will be kept very minor, suitable for teens and up.

 

* * *

_MAKE SURE FRENCH COMES_

That's that the message said. Buck sighed. Although Steve sent the message to the group chat, he knew it was meant for him. French wasn't a part of that group chat, having left it weeks ago with a message about how they were all stupid to still believe in her. Buck had countered that belief was never stupid, but French was already gone.

It was almost 10pm on a Thursday night, and Buck knew he was probably at home after getting his brothers in bed.

He backed out of the group chat and opened his thread with French. They hadn't been talking as much recently. The last messages were from almost two weeks ago. The last message was sent from Buck, French never replied.

French was busy, Buck told himself. Otherwise they would still talk. But deep down he knew that the only reason they talked in the first place was because of OA, and now that she was gone, they were slowly reverting to the natural order of things.

He let out another sigh, a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding, and sat down heavily onto his bed. He laid down on the bed with his feet still on the floor, one arm by his side, the other holding his phone on his stomach. Staring at the ceiling, he wondered what surprise would be. He was excited at the aspect that Steve had a plan that, knowing Steve, had to do with finding OA or at least proving her stories to be truth. But the idea of texting French filled him with a trepidation he didn't fully understand. It shouldn't be that hard.

He knew Steve wanted them to hurry, hence the all caps, but group chats didn't have read receipts, so Buck could just claim he didn't see the messages right away.

Better to get it over with, he finally decided. And he sent a quick text to French.

_Hey. Steve says he has a surprise and wants us to meet him._

The response was almost instantaneous, making him jump when it came through. He hadn't expected that.

_What is it now?_

_I don't know, that's what "surprise" means._ Buck responded.

 _I don't have time for_   _Steve tonight._

Buck read the message, and without thinking he sent another.

_What about for me?_

This time, the reply was slower. He almost sent another text, wanting to take the first one back somehow, hating himself for putting himself in a position to so easily be hurt. But the bubbles at the bottom of the screen showed that French was typing. Then he wasn't. Then again. Indecisive, the bubbles disappeared and reappeared a few time before French finally sent his message.

_Where are we meeting?_


	2. Chapter 2

"Hi Alfonso"

French could hear the smile on Buck's mom's face as she greeted him. "Hi Mrs. Vu." He said back. It didn't escape anyone's notice that she didn't bother greeting anyone else.

Buck jumped out of the car to go through the front door with the rest of them. He held the door open for each of them, waving them each through impatiently. "Come on, the surprise is in my room."

French couldn't help but be annoyed with his and Steve's use of the word "surprise" recently. Weren't surprised supposed to be good? He didn't imagine he would be excited for whatever Buck had in store for them.

They all made their way upstairs to Buck's room, and French realized Steve was staring at a blank space on the wall in confusion.

"Dude." He said.

French looked between him and Buck, who entered the room last.

"No." Buck said, his voice was shaky.

"What the fuck?" Steve demanded.

French knew Buck's room well enough to know that there had been a vanity and mirror there before. Though the marks on the wall where it had been would have told him as much anyways.

"Mom?" Buck called, bouncing a little with anxiety before he turned around and darted into the hall, "Where's my mirror?"

Those remaining in Buck's room stayed silent, listening to the exchange between Buck and his mom about the mirror being taken to Goodwill without Buck's knowledge.

French finally turned to Steve, pushing his glasses up as he said, "Can you please just tell us what's happening?"

Steve looked after Buck again as if wondering if he should say anything without him present, then admitted "Buck saw Rachel. Inside his mirror. She sang to him."

French scoffed. Something he wouldn't have done if Buck had still been in the room, but Steve always brought out the worst in him.

"He didn't see Rachel. He thought he saw Rachel." He said.

Buck chose that moment to return to his room, sneaking up behind French. "I saw  _and_ heard her." He insisted, and French felt ashamed at having spoken so harshly before. "I just  _know_ it was her." Buck said forcefully.

French softened his tone and tried to reason with Buck gently, telling him about when he thought he saw Homer in the mirror, but Buck wasn't having it. It was different, he said. A trick of the brain. French didn't disagree, but what he didn't say was that that's exactly what he thought happened to Buck, too. A trick of the brain, nothing more.

"I was visited." Buck stood firm.

"Visited. Okay" French couldn't help the chuckle that escaped. This whole ordeal with OA was getting more and more ridiculous and she wasn't even there anymore. Buck was never one to hide his emotions. Usually French loved that about him. Reading people was never one of his strong suits, but he didn't have to try with Buck. Buck was an open book. But now he looked away from Buck as soon as he spoke, not wanting to see the hurt that would surely be reflected on his face at his words and derisive chuckle.

"I'm not asking you to believe in OA." Buck told him earnestly, taking a step to close the distance French had tried to put between them. "I'm asking you to believe in me."

French looked back up at him then. Forcing himself to face the emotions he saw there. Sadness and pain, but also hope and... trust, maybe. Trust that French wouldn't turn him away when Buck needed him. And god help him, he did believe in Buck, of course he did. But OA was crazy, and all of this was crazy, and there were other things to worry about in life than whether a dead girl was in another dimension or not. But Buck was asking French to believe in him, and how could he deny him something as simple as that? How could he deny him anything?

"Something happened through that mirror." Buck said. Maybe he would have kept going, but his mom chose that moment to walk through the door.

"I told you to tag whatever you wanted to keep." She said. "I'm not driving down to Goodwill at this hour."

"Well, I'll drive." Steve told her.

"She's definitely not going with you." Mrs. Vu responded.

A stab of empathetic pain for what Buck must be feeling went through French at hearing him being so blatantly misgendered by him mother. He knew that Buck's parents didn't respect his identity, but to misgender your kid in front of four of his friends... French felt the anger rise in his chest, but still he tried to keep the peace when Angie spoke up with a shocked and angered "Excuse me?"

"Okay," He interjected, "look, um..." he hesitated, not entirely sure what he wanted to say when he opened his mouth. "I think we've all been through a lot recently. And this mirror is obviously important to Buck, Mrs. Vu. So... How about I drive us to Goodwill?" He asked. If this is what Buck wanted,  _needed,_ then that's what they would do. And Mrs. Vu had always liked him, though the implications of why she liked him weren't lost on him and he sometimes resented her for it. In any case, he knew she wouldn't say no to him.

Angie offered up her mom's car, which was a relief because the idea of trekking all the way back to his dump of a home with the four of them in tow, just to pile them all into his POS car for a trip to Goodwill did not sound like his idea of a fun time.

None of this sounded like a good time anyways, but as he turned back to Buck, Buck looked up at him with the smallest, saddest smile French had ever seen, and he knew that it was worth it. Anything was worth putting a smile on Buck's face, however small that smile may be.


	3. Chapter 3

So they found the stupid mirror. They picked up BBA and drove all the way out to Gary and they found it. The six of were crowded around it, staring at it as if they expected Rachel to just show up and tell them what to do.

Steve leaned in close to the mirror. "When the sun goes down, Rachel will be back. I know it." He told them. Told himself?

"She might even say something." Buck added.

BBA sighed. "I guess I can wait." She said. "I'll have to call Amtrak about getting the next train." She turned to look at each of them as sternly as she could manage, which wasn't very. "And you have to call your parents, all of you." She demanded.

"Yeah, whatever." Steve said flippantly.

"Don't 'yeah, whatever' me, Steven." BBA said to him. "I don't go through all that with your parents again."

"Just screw his parents." Angie piped up. "We almost died. Everything's different now."

"I'm not sure everyone sees it that way, Angie." BBA told her gently.

"Well who cares how everyone sees it?" Angie asked her, looking around at them all. "We were there. When Steve stood up, when you  _all_  did, and then…" Her voice got shaky as she continued. "When the gun went off, I thought that-"

"It is weird." French chimed in for the first time. "That she was right there in that exact spot." Buck looked up at him to find French's eyes already on him. Buck furrowed his brow slightly, as if confused about French's sudden belief in OA. But it was more of an apology to Buck than it was an admittance of belief. It  _was_ weird. But that doesn't mean it wasn't happenstance. But he owed it to Buck to trust him in this, so it was time he started doing just that.

"Almost like she drew the bullet into herself." BBA added.

"And away from us." Buck said softly, looking down. French felt the loss of Buck's attention more acutely than he should have, but ignored the feeling.

"Look," Steve told them all, "We call our parents and we wait for dark."

That plan was quickly ruined by the small girl who worked at the Goodwill, but her offer for them to stay with her and her father quickly gave them another plan. It felt weird to be accepting a place to stay from a perfect stranger, but a church seemed like a safe a place as any to spend the night. Plus, it was free, and they were all together. So, it was easily decided that they would take her up on her offer.

Loading the mirror onto Angie's mom's station wagon was not so easy.

"Don't push so hard, I'll fall." French complained as Steve tried to walk French backwards off the curb. They were carrying the entire vanity between the two of them, and while it wasn't exactly heavy, it was awkward to carry.

Steve couldn't help himself. "That's what she said." He joked.

Angie laughed, but French just said "Seriously?" And the rest of the group ignored him.

"Take it easy, Steve," Jesse tried to help as Steve walked towards the curb. "It might be hard going down here."

Steve laughed. "She said that, too."

Angie laughed again.

"Wow." French said, making a face. "You two are made for each other."

Getting the vanity up on top of the car shouldn't have been that hard, but Steve of course had to argue. Angie was the one who pointed out that they only needed the mirror, and it did seem easier to just strap the mirror on top. So that's what they did, and then they were off.

French opened the back door for Buck, hoping for the boy to take the middle seat where French could sit next to him, but Jessie was the one who took the middle seat, Buck hopping into the very back. Buck was right behind him, but it wasn't the same, and French caught himself mourning the chance to have Buck's side pressed against his. He hated himself for wanting that from Buck. Hated that he even thought of Buck like that. It was easy to lapse into silence for the rest of the short drive. Nobody bothered him. Steve, Angie, and BBA did enough talking for the rest of them.

The Goodwill girl, French wasn't sure he ever caught her name, was oddly thrilled to have them there. Pilgrims of faith, she called them. French wasn't sure about that, but he didn't say anything.

When dark came, they lit candles and sat around the mirror as if for some creepy séance. They were quiet, staring, waiting.

"Give it time." BBA said softly.

French was the first to get up and leave. He couldn't handle the waiting anymore. Couldn't handle the eerie silence in the big church. Couldn't handle the fact that he was annoyed that Steve sat between him and Buck. He ignored Steve when he asked where he was going. Even ignored Buck's calling out for him as he walked away. He shut the door behind him. He needed to blow off steam, that was all. He would feel better after that.


	4. Chapter 4

The church was quiet when he snuck back in, trying not to wake anyone. He didn't want the questions yet. He knew they would come, but he couldn't deal with them now. He wanted to stave them off until morning. It wasn't really any of their business anyways.

Most of the pews were empty. BBA, Steve, Jessie, Angie, and Buck were all sleeping on their own pews towards the front of the chapel. There were plenty of places he could choose to sleep, but as French chose his bed for the night, he couldn't help but be drawn towards the one closest to Buck. Buck. French looked down upon Buck's sleeping form. He didn't look restful in his sleep. He was sitting up, leaning against the back of the pew. His brow was scrunched together and he looked upset, as if having a bad dream. French resisted the urge to try and soothe him, not knowing how it would be received. Instead, he threw his jacket on the pew behind him and sat down to take off his shoes. He was a little sore from his earlier rendezvous, and he moved carefully.

Suddenly a buzzing sounds caught his attention. He froze, one shoe still on, and looked up at the mirror. He saw nothing amiss, but he could've sworn the buzzing was coming from that direction. He was approaching it before he even realized he had gotten up, hobbling over unevenly with his left shoe still on. But as he neared it, the sound went away. French watched the mirror for a moment longer before admonishing himself for buying into this whole "Rachel's ghost visiting them through a mirror" thing for even a second. He turned around and walked back towards his makeshift bed. Buck was shivering in the cold night air. If this old church had heat, they certainly didn't leave it on for their overnight guests. He grabbed Buck's coat from where it was hanging on the back of the bench and draped it over him, then sat on his own pew to finish taking his shoes off.

"French?" Buck asked sleepily.

French looked up to see Buck watching him with heavy-lidded eyes, looking half asleep.

"Yeah," French replied as he dropped his left shoe next to it's pair. "I didn't mean to wake you, go back to sleep."

But Buck ignored him, blinking at him sleepily over the back of the pew. "Where have you been?" He asked.

Though there was no accusation in Buck's voice, French suddenly felt guilty for leaving him. He knew it was silly, it's not like he left Buck all alone in this big church. The others were with him. But he should have been there too.

"Just out." Was his only response.

"Oh." He said. "We were worried." He sounded exhausted, and French felt another stab of guilt to have worried them. Steve and Jesse and Angie could shove it. But he hadn't meant to worry BBA or Buck.

"I'm fine. I'm here now." French said.

Buck nodded, looking down quietly and avoiding French's eyes. French knew Buck well enough to know that he had something he wanted to say, but either didn't know how to say it or wasn't sure he should.

"Buck?" French prodded, then waited until Buck met his eyes. "What's up?" He asked him gently.

Buck hesitated for a moment longer before saying in a rush of breath, "I'm sorry for dragging you all the way out here. I know you don't believe me but I really did see her and we need you here with us." Then added, "I need you here."

His eyes were wet with tears and the sadness on his face broke French's heart. He didn't know what to say, so he just leaned forward and put his left hand on Buck's right shoulder. Buck grabbed his wrist and held it there, as if believing that French would pull away from him at any second, and squeezed his eyes shut against the tears.

"I miss her so much" Buck choked out as a few tears finally made their way down his face.

French wrapped his arms around Buck over the back of the pew and Buck in turn wound his arms over French's shoulders and around his neck, squeezing tight.

"I'm here." French told him gently. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere." The back of the pew was pressing into his chest, but he ignored it.

Buck tucked his face into the crook of his neck, and as his body shook with sobs, French tried to maneuver them so he could be on the bench next to Buck. Buck tried to pull back self-consciously when he felt French moving away from him, but French quickly sat on the pew next to him and pulled the other boy back against his chest.

"They didn't even let me go to her funeral." Buck choked out quietly.

French heard a pew creak under one of their sleeping friends. "Shh," he soothed. "I know. I'm so sorry, Buck. I'm so sorry."

Finally, after what felt like hours to his aching heart but was probably only a few minutes, Buck's sobs quieted and the boy just stayed there shivering in his arms. After a moment of deliberation, briefly wondering what the others might think come morning before remembering that he didn't give a fuck, French grabbed Buck's jacket from where it had fallen on the floor and tucked it behind himself to serve as a pillow, then grabbed his own jacket from the pew behind them and laid it over Buck's shaking form. Buck again tried to pull away when French moved, as if he thought that French could possibly want to be anywhere else than right there, but he stopped pulling away when French draped the jacket over his back and wrapped his arms around him again, squeezing him tight for a moment in a hug before relaxing again. Then he laid back against his makeshift pillow, pulling Buck down with him. He kept his feet on the floor, and he knew he would regret the awkward angle of his back come morning, but then Buck tucked his feet up onto the bench with them and snuggled further into French's chest, fisting a hand in his shirt, he really couldn't bring himself to care. He would do anything to stay right there forever, and the thought was startling to him. He wouldn't be anywhere else in the world if it meant leaving Buck's arms. The realization was startling, yes, but it wasn't as scary as he thought it maybe should've been. He liked Buck. He liked him a lot, and he knew now that that feeling wasn't going to go away anytime soon, no matter how much he ignored it or pushed it down. He pushed the thoughts away. He was so tired, and for now he was just going to hold onto the boy he more-than-liked, and get some much needed sleep.

And if the next morning, he was suddenly all gung-ho to go to a medium to try and contact Rachel, well, what could he say? He didn't know if he truly believed what Buck saw, but he knew that Buck believed it. And if seeing this crazy physic wannabe would help Buck, well he was willing to try anything to keep Buck happy.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The longest chapter yet. This is slowly becoming more fiction than canon, which is how I originally intended it to go, it just took some time to separate from the true storyline. I will continue to follow the canon story, but will also deviate where I want to to make it more French/Buck centric.
> 
> I'm sorry this chapter took so long. I don't usually post things that I consider to be unfinished, but this was originally meant to be a kind of connected series of one-shots that could end whenever I wanted them to.... Now it's turned into an actual story with an actual planned ending. Whoops.

 

Back in the car again. French was getting sick of being stuck in the car with these five already, well, four. And they still had hundreds of miles to go. But somehow that conversation with Steve had gone well. Really well. He hadn't expected coming out to Steve of all people to be met with laughter and jokes and acceptance. But that's what happened. He couldn't help but feel more grateful than anything as they drove alone. He didn't doubt Buck's acceptance, or BBA's. Or even Angie's. Jesse was unknown, but Steve was the greatest unknown, and he felt that Jesse would probably follow along with the rest.

French had woken early, still trapped underneath Buck on the pew. His back was killing him, as he expected it would, and his feet were freezing. But with Buck practically in his lap, laying on his chest with his nose against French's neck… French couldn't possibly complain. He had come to a sort of acceptance last night before he fell asleep. He liked Buck as much more than a friend, and deep down he had known it for a long time. He had accepted he was gay long ago but coming to terms with liking a friend was another thing entirely. Laying there in the dark, Buck holding onto him as tightly as he was holding onto Buck, he could almost believe that maybe Buck liked him, too.

He had laid there as long as he could manage, but awake now, he was all too aware of his body's physical needs. And aside from the hard-on he definitely didn't want Buck to feel when he woke up, he really had to pee, and his cold feet and aching back were starting to bother him more than ever. When he finally had gotten up, Angie was the only one awake. She was sitting up in a pew across from them, and she shot him a knowing smile as French extricated himself from Buck as gently as he could. He ignored her, laying Buck gently onto his jacket that he had been using as a pillow that night, and tucking his own jacket tighter around his sleeping form. French felt a surge of protectiveness seeing Buck sleeping like that. He looked so small, so angelic. He had wanted to kiss Buck's head, just a press of the lips against Buck's hair, but it felt wrong to do so. To take what he wanted from this angelic boy without permission. So, he had left him there sleeping on the pew alone.

French shook himself back to the present. He was in the front seat this time, BBA driving and Buck giving directions to the nearest gas station. They hadn't talked about last night, and although French felt like they should, he realized that maybe Buck didn't think much of it. Or maybe he didn't even really remember it, half asleep as he had been. The only real interaction they had had that morning was Buck handing back French's jacket with a small "thanks".

When they got to the gas station, French thought about trying again to get the seat next to Buck when they got back on the road. This time he didn't feel guilty or dirty for wanting it so badly. He had accepted his feelings and wasn't going to feel bad about it anymore. He went inside to grab some waters for everyone while Steve filled up the tank. The gas station was small and derelict, but the important thing was that they were cheap.

When he walked out of the gas station with a bag of water bottles and Steve's Red Vines, he noticed Steve and Angie leaning against the station wagon, watching him and whispering to each other. Buck and the others were all around the car, stretching their legs for a bit before being trapped in the car for another few hours. He gave Steve and Angie a wary glance as he handed them their waters. He passed out a water bottle to each of them, coming to lean on the station wagon beside Buck. French handed him his water bottle, and Buck looked up at him with a small smile.

"Thanks." He said. He seemed to want to say more but decided against it. French wanted to ask Buck what was on his mind, but he was keenly aware of Steve and Angie not-so-surreptitiously watching them from the other side of the car.

When they started to get back in the car, Steve offered to drive.

"Jesse, you're with me." Steve told him. Jesse shrugged and got into the front seat.

French looked at Steve suspiciously, but Steve was avoiding his eyes. His suspicions were confirmed, however, when Angie asked if she could sit in the very back to "stretch her legs out for a while."

That left him, BBA and Buck in the middle row, and Buck being the smallest of the three, would be in the middle.

So, he was right to be wary of Steve and Angie, but he couldn't help but be a little grateful, too. They had driven some 200 miles, with multiple stops and car rearranging's, and he had yet to sit next to Buck.

Buck, for his part, seemed oblivious to the fact that Angie and Steve had sat him next to French on purpose. He just climbed into the middle seat buckled up. He seemed so nonchalant about it, while French's heart seemed likely to beat out of his chest. It was stupid, he told himself, to feel so nervous when just last night he had had Buck on top of him all night. But all that memory served to do was make him more nervous. It didn't take him long to calm down though, the casualness of everyone around him soothed his nerves.

Angie was the first to fall asleep, stretched out in the back with her head lolling against the back of the middle row seat. BBA fell asleep next, a sweater balled up to serve as a pillow and barrier between her head and the rattling car window. Jesse and Steve were talking quietly in the front seat, about what, French couldn't bring himself to care.

Eventually, Buck looked up at him. "I'm sorry about last night." He told him.

French looked at him in shock. "What?"

Buck looked away, a light blush covering his cheeks. "I didn't mean to fall apart like a baby." He said quietly.

French reached across himself to take Buck's right hand with his own, his left arm trapped between them in such a way that he couldn't use it to hold onto Buck.

"Don't be sorry," He told Buck earnestly. "Please."

Buck looked up at him again, eyes big, searching French's face for something, though French didn't know what. Whatever it was, he seemed to have found it, because he simply said "Okay" then he laid his head on French's shoulder.

French watched the top of Buck's head for a moment, then extracted his left arm from between them to wrap around Buck's shoulders and draw him in closer. They were still holding hands, and now Buck's head was against his chest. French wondered briefly if Buck could feel what he was doing to his heartbeat. Then he closed his eyes and dropped his head to Buck's, breathing him in, relief flooding him at the acceptance of his touch; at Buck's closeness. He felt as if every hurt he had ever been dealt would be healed if he could just hold onto Buck like this forever. He opened his eyes briefly to see Steve looking at them in the rearview mirror, smiling smugly. Part of him wanted to flip Steve off, part of him wanted to thank him for rearranging the car to help French be near Buck. But all of him just wanted to revel in the feeling of being close to Buck, so he closed his eyes and lost himself in feeling. And for the second time in a row, he slept a sweet, dreamless sleep.

French woke again sometime later to Steve going on about some actor with the same name as him. French didn't move from his spot, scared to wake Buck and have him move from where was quickly becoming French's favorite place for him.

"Who's Steve McQueen?" Jesse asked.

"What?" Steve exclaimed. "Dude you don't fucking-"

He was cut off as they ran over something on the road. Steve slammed on the brakes and yelled "Fuck!" As French instinctively clutched Buck tighter.

Something hit their windshield, then rolled onto the ground in front of them.

"What'd we hit?" Angie asked from the back.

Buck was the first to recover. "Oh god, oh shit shit shit shit" He said repeatedly as he scrambled for his jacket. He reached over French and was trying to get out the door before French could even get out of his way. The mirror. The rest of them scrambled out after Buck, coming to stand around the mirror. Jesse walked to the back of the car to see what they hit.

"What are we gonna do?" BBA asked.

"Steve, it's over." Buck said. "What the fuck!"

Steve looked up from where he was crouched by the mirror, clearly offended at Buck's implication that this was somehow his fault. But he let it go. "We can still take it." He offered.

"No, no, no, no, no. No." Buck repeated it over and over, panic overtaking rational thought.

French didn't know what to do to comfort Buck. They all stood around the mirror, wondering what to do. He looked up and noticed that Angie was turned away from the rest, and he looked to where she was watching Jesse, just in time to see Jesse raise a huge rock over his head, then he heard the sickening splatter of whatever Jesse had just killed. He did it out of mercy, and yet French felt sick at the thought. He knew he wouldn't have had the strength to do that, even if it was merciful. Then he wondered if it was strength that gave Jesse the guts to do that, or something else.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skipped a bit of time here, but I feel like it still flows. Thoughts?

They were all sitting around Aunt Lily’s table in near darkness as Aunt Lily explained what was going to happen. French was getting more annoyed by the second. Everything that came out of that woman’s mouth sounded like something straight out of a B rated movie. And of course, she had charged them for the deluxe package.

 

Only Angie seemed to share his disdain for this whole experience, so he kept his mouth shut. If only for Buck’s sake. He didn’t want to be the reason the woman finally kicked them out.

 

“Please,” She finished. “Join hands on the tabletop.” When they complied, she turned out the lights, then turned on a red lamp to illuminate the room. She then opened the dish she had laid in the middle of the table and asked them to focus on it.

 

“The strength of our emotions and the clarity of our minds will light her way.” She said.

 

They all focused on the dish, and she fell silent to focus with them.

 

“Something’s happening.” Steve said, and they all leaned in closer to see.

 

Jesse and Angie were the first to notice Buck’s absence, as they had been holding his hands. Slowly, they all turned to where Buck had silently left the group and was walking towards the living room. They all watched as he walked away from the light, into the darkness.

 

French felt uneasy, he was unsure why Buck had left the table, but it was making him nervous all the same. He glanced around quickly and saw that the whole table seemed to share his sentiment.

 

Bang! The sound of a gunshot resonated from the TV, which was suddenly flashing, blinding after the darkness. Random images started playing, skipping from one scene to the next.

 

French was the first to move, not wanting Buck in there alone, though it was just a TV and likely one of the so-called-medium’s tricks.

 

But as the images kept flashing across the screen, they started to feel almost familiar somehow…

 

“It’s a message.” Buck told them. “From Rachel.”

 

French had come up beside him by now, standing just behind his left shoulder. The others were close behind him.

 

“What does it mean?” Steve asked him.

 

“I don’t know…” Buck admitted. He watched the images on the TV, translating what he thought he could decipher. “She’s escaping.” He told them.

 

“It’s a mirror.” Steve said, eyes wide.

 

“Hands…” Buck trailed off.

 

“Going through it,” Jesse chimed in. “Going through something.”

 

“What the fuck…” Steve whispered.

 

“She’s…” Buck started.

 

“Blind.” He and French finished together.

 

French finally had to admit there was more going on here than a fake medium could pull off. She had no way of knowing what images would mean something to them.

 

“Okay,” Jesse said. “Blind.”

 

“Could be OA!” Steve said excitedly.

 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Jesse said, almost as if in a trance. “Wait a minute! A blind woman, comes out a bunker… and she can see, and she goes into another dimension!” He yelled out.

 

Steve sucked in a breath. “Holy shit! Yo, OA’s alive!”

 

“Get 10% off!” The TV said. It out of place after the darkness and drama of the last message.

 

“Wait, there’s more.” French said, trying to calm Jesse and Steve down into focusing again.

 

“And for one day only, only, only, only-” it started repeating itself.

 

“Only…” Angie and Steve said.

 

A clip of a game show gave them their second word. “Safe.” Buck and French said it together.

 

“B…” They all started. “B… A!”

 

“That’s you.” Steve said, as if BBA wasn’t already aware.

 

The TV finally gave them the last of the clue. “Only safe for BBA to go.” They all put together.

 

“Only safe for BBA to go.” They repeated. Then the TV went dark, showing only what looked like some sort red flower and their reflections. French noticed in their reflections for the first time that he was holding onto Buck’s hand. Whether he had taken Buck’s hand or Buck had taken his, he didn’t know. But he was grateful for the comfort it provided, and he squeezed his hand tighter.

 

They all turned to BBA, and she slowly walked forward, inching her way past them and towards the TV. “What’s happening?” Steve demanded. From who, French didn’t know. He didn’t dare look away from BBA.

 

Distantly, French heard Aunt Lily scream, “Betty, look away! Stop!” But no one moved forward, no one could move.

 

They all held their breath in trepidation as BBA reached for the TV… Her fingertips made contact, and it shattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took so long to upload the last chapter even though I've had it written forever, I felt like I owed it to the few of you still reading to upload two at once. So here you go!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the shift keys on my laptop are broken and it's my only computer. So this took foreeevveeerrr to write tonight. Killed me. If there are any weird typos or anything, feel free to let me know. As always, I appreciate any feedback!

Buck couldn’t help but cast an appreciative eye over French’s form playing around in the water. Steve had a good body too, of course. So did Angie. It’s just that Buck didn’t care about their bodies. Not that he had any reason to care about French’s either. Oh, but who was he kidding? He definitely did. French, Steve, and Angie played around in the water, whooping and hollering as Buck and Jessie stayed on the shore.

 

They called out for Jessie to get in the water with them, and although he hated that he couldn’t join them, knew why they weren’t asking him to get in with them, appreciated it even… he couldn’t help but feel a little left out.

 

“Jesse, come on!” Buck called, waving him over from where he sat on the sand some ways from the water. Jesse didn’t respond, just ducked his head. Tired from the long trip, Buck assumed. He understood, he was exhausted too. Figured they all were. The excitement of seeing the ocean and the cold, salty breeze was enough to keep him wired for a while, though.

 

“How cold is it?” Buck asked, yelling over the waves.

 

“You wanna try?” Steve yelled back, running towards Buck, acting as if he were going to pick him up and dunk him in the water.

 

“No!” Buck yelled, running back to shore laughing. Steve chased him out of the water, but let up after a moment and didn’t return. French and Angie followed him out shortly after, shaking and shivering, with huge grins on their faces.

 

French walked up to Buck and he took a wary step back, scared for a moment of French following through on Steve’s threat. French put his hands up in a placating manner, and Buck let him approach. He couldn’t help but let his eye’s wander down from French’s, lingering on the water droplets and goose bumps dripping decorating his stomach. When he dragged his eyes back up to French’s face, the knowing grin he found there made him flush red. French’s grin only grew, and he stepped closer, crowding into Buck’s personal space. Not that he minded. He never did when it came to French. French’s hand came up slowly, hovering a moment above Buck’s cheek before suddenly dipping down and sliding under Buck’s coat to press against his neck and shoulder.

 

Buck let out a yelp as the icy hand made contact and jumped away from a laughing French.

 

“You wanted to know how cold it was!” French defended, still laughing.

 

Buck couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he shoved him backwards. “Oh, go get dressed you dolt.” He motioned to where Steve and Angie were busy collecting their clothes. He tried not to think of how it felt to have his hands against French’s hard abs a second ago, the skin still wet and cool.

 

“If you’re so sure you want me to.” French said, stepping a little closer again.

 

Buck’s grin fell from his face and he let his eyes travel down a bit again. After all, French was basically asking him to, right? He couldn’t be blamed. When he trailed his eyes back up to French’s face, he was no longer smiling either. Buck’s lips parted slightly, to say (or do) what, he didn’t know. But whatever may have happened next was halted by a dark gray t-shirt hitting French in the face.

 

French jumped and pulled his shirt from his face and Buck’s head snapped to the side so fast he was sure he got whiplash.

 

“Get a room, you two!” Steve laughed, still trying to pull his own shirt on over his wet skin.

 

Buck flushed again, but a quick glance at French told him he wasn’t the alone, though French’s darker skin hid it better than his own did. French shot him a sheepish grin before pulling his shirt over his head and turning to jog off and gather the rest of his clothes from wherever he had dropped them as he ran towards the water.

 

Buck shook his head in amusement, and slightly in confusion over what was happening between them and went to sit next to Jesse in the sand.

 

He gave Jesse a small smile. “Hey.”

 

Jesse gave what Buck assumed was meant to be a smile back. “Hey.”

 

“You okay?” Buck asked him. “You seem kind of…” He hesitated, “quiet.”

 

Buck felt French sit down on the other side of him as Jesse responded.

 

“Just tired.” He said. “I think I’m going to head inside and warm up.” Then he was off, leaving Buck behind to wonder after him.

 

French nudged his shoulder. “What’s up with him?”

 

Buck shrugged, staring back at the crashing waves with a furrowed brow. “Just tired, I guess.”

 

“Aren’t we all?” French said, yawning at the mere mention of being tired.

 

Buck leaned into him, nodding sleepily, the exhaustion hitting him all at once.

 

French froze as Buck leaned against him, brain going into overtime trying to calm his suddenly racing heart and figure out what to do. He must have stiffened, or stayed still a second too long, because suddenly Buck was pulling away from him, an apology on his lips.

 

French quickly wrapped an arm around him and pulled him closer to his side. It was Buck’s turn to stiffen up, but he quickly relaxed again into French’s warm embrace. There was a lot of layers between them with both of their thick coats on, but they relished in the comfort of each other’s company and touch. They didn’t say anything. Nothing needed said. They just watched the waves and listened to the sounds of the ocean as it crashed against the shore.

 

For the first time in a long time, they both felt completely at peace.


	8. Chapter 8

BBA’s cousin had three tents set up for the five of them, saying that she thought they would like to camp out by the ocean. The kids were definitely not disappointed, even after so many days of traveling in the car and sleeping in motels, the thought of sleeping and waking up just feet from the ocean was too exciting to care about sleeping on the ground.

 

All five of them ran down to the beach to claim their tents, Jesse, Buck, and French remembering to say a quick “thank you” before joining Steve and Angie on the sand.

 

Steve and Angie quickly claimed the rightmost yellow for themselves, having gotten there first.

 

French gestured to the tent in the middle, “Jesse, you and I can take that one, yeah?”

 

“No!” Jesse exclaimed, a little too loud to just be because of the wind. Buck and French looked at him, brows furrowed. “I mean, I’m just not feeling great. I don’t think you even want to share a tent with me right now.” He tried to laugh it off, then turned and trudged off to the gray tent on the left.

 

Buck almost had to laugh at the frozen look on French’s face as he stared at Jesse’s retreating form, but he decided to take pity on him instead. “I can just ask if I can sleep on the couch.” He suggested softly. “I’m sure it’s no big deal.” He tried to ignore the twinge of sadness at the idea of sleeping inside while all his friends camped out on the beach.

 

French shook his head slightly, seeming to shake himself out of whatever process of thought Jesse’s words had him stuck on. “No, you don’t have to sleep inside. We can share, right?”

 

Buck had to look away from French and out at the ocean as he responded, trying to ignore the swooping of his stomach and the blush he knew was once again rising on his face. “Yeah, no big deal.” His attempt at nonchalance was ruined by the timid question he posed after a brief hesitation. “Right?”

 

French smiled at him, softly. Always so soft for him. “Right. No big deal.” But it felt very much a big deal when French took his hand gently and led him towards the blue tent. He unzipped the tent with his free hand, and even managed not to drop Buck’s hand in embarrassment (not of Buck, never of Buck) when Angie and Steve caught sight of them and let out a few catcalls before ducking into their own tent.

 

“Whoo! Get it, Buck!” Angie yelled out as Steve whistled. French flipped them off, before finally letting go of his hand to climb into the tent. Buck followed only a second later.

 

Now that they were in the tent, suddenly French didn’t know what to do with himself. He took a second to try and compose himself as Buck zipped up the tent behind them, but when he turned around, French was sitting crisscross and looking like a deer caught in the headlights as their eyes met.

 

“French?” Buck whispered, though he knew the others couldn’t possibly overhear them with the ocean crashing so nearby. “I really don’t have to…”

 

French shook his head again. “No, I uh. I want you to. I want you here. If that’s okay.” He managed.

 

Buck smiled. “Yeah. That’s really okay. It’s more than okay. French, I…” He trailed off again, but in the darkness of the small tent, their body heat and breath warming the space around them, the sound of the ocean in the distance… despite his racing heart, it made him feel brave. “I really like you.” He said, forcing himself to hold his gaze.

 

French’s mouth dropped open, to say what, he didn’t know.

 

Buck felt the rambling coming on before he even opened his mouth but couldn’t stop himself from starting. “I get it if you don’t feel the same way, I just thought that maybe you maybe did because lately with the touching and well, it’s okay if you don’t I just thought I should tell you and I can still go sleep inside if you want because I made it awkward now, right? And I don’t want things to be awkward because like I said I do really like you, but I also like you as a friend and I didn’t mean to screw that up.” He stopped finally, and wiped his palms across his jeans, panic having made them damp with sweat.

 

French made no immediate move to respond, brain still short-circuiting and trying desperately to catch up.

 

Buck could feel his heart breaking, shattering, as French sat there staring at him, confusion and shock decorating his features. He wished the sand below the tent could swallow him whole so he would never have to deal with the repercussions of this. That the ocean could rise up and wash him away. “I’ll just go, then. I’m sorry.” He said, finally pulling his gaze away from French’s brown eyes and moving to unzip the tent.

 

“Wait!” The movement seemed to have woken something in French, and he reached out a hand as if to grab Buck’s arm but hesitated still.

 

Buck turned back to French and sat back on his heels, hands resting on his thighs.

 

“I didn’t mean to… I thought that maybe…” French tried starting a couple times before taking a steadying breath and trying again. “I like you too, Buck. A lot.” He reached out hesitantly a took Buck’s hand in his own, giving him plenty of time to pull away if he wanted. He didn’t. “It just… I didn’t expect you to feel the same way. I thought the same thing, that maybe you did like me, because of how it’s been lately. I _hoped_ that you did. But I didn’t really think it would happen. That I could be so lucky.”

 

Heartbreak turned to elation so fast, Buck briefly wondered if emotional whiplash was a real medical condition. “Lucky?” He asked incredulously. “French I’m not exactly… but you like me too?”

 

“You’re exactly who you want to be, who you were meant to be, and I love that about you. You’ve never hidden from the world exactly who you are, you live your truth. And yeah, I’ve liked you for a long time.” He rubbed his thumb over Buck’s hand absentmindedly, “Since we first started hanging out with The OA. Since that night with the ice cream in the snow.”

 

“Me too.” Buck said, almost giddy with it. “I mean, I liked you then too.” He flipped his hand over to hold French’s properly. He looked into French’s eyes and felt as if he could drown there, and what he saw in them made him feel brave again. It had worked out for him earlier, after all. So, he took a leap. “Can I kiss you?”

 

“Can you-? Wha-?” French looked shocked again, but this time, Buck just grinned, waiting for French to get his thoughts in order again. Finally, he seemed to gather his thoughts enough to respond. “Buck, if you don’t, I think I might combust.”

 

Buck’s grin got impossibly wider, “Well, we can’t have that.” And with that, he leaned in and kissed him.

 

As they kissed through their smiles, it wasn’t fireworks. It was a warming, growing heat. A fire, but not the kind that burns through forests quickly and destructively. The fire of a hearth, the red coals that bring warmth and life into existence. Buck threaded his fingers through French’s hair, and with a little noise that sounded suspiciously like a whimper, French turned the kiss from gentle and sweet to hungry and all consuming. He wrapped an arm around Buck’s back, pulling him in close, pressing as much of themselves together as they could manage through all their layers of clothing.

 

Neither knew how long they stayed like that, exploring this new intimacy. In the end, French was the one to slow it down, pulling back to place little kisses all over Buck’s face. His forehead, his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids, then back to his lips, once, twice, three times. Then he pulled him down to lay on the ground with him, no words spoken. None were needed at the moment. They both knew without having to articulate it, that this was not the time nor place to take this further. So they laid down, Buck curled up against French’s side, legs slightly entangled, exchanging small kisses as their heart rates slowed, and they finally drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms.


	9. Chapter 9

They woke to BBA screaming, asking for Jesse.

 

“What time is it?” Buck heard Steve ask wearily.

 

“Where’s Jesse’s tent?” BBA screamed again.

 

By this time, Buck and French had extricated themselves from each other and Buck was trying with fingers that felt frozen to unzip the tent. “He’s in the one on the end!” Buck told her through the tent. He could hear her run past, and managed to get their tent flap open just as she opened Jesse’s, letting out a painful scream, sobbing. Steve was right behind her, yelling and pulling Jesse’s limp form out of the tent.

 

The chaos all blended, people speaking at once, asking questions, trying to figure out what was happening. It all blurred with the early morning sounds of the crashing waves and seagulls looking for their breakfast. Buck watched in horror as French took the lead, pushing Steve out of the way to start CPR.

 

Angie was holding Jesse’s hand, sobbing. “I don’t feel anything, French.”

 

French slowed his movements, and Steve pushed him out of the way. “Why are you stopping? Dude, what the fuck?”

 

“He’s cold.” Angie sobbed.

 

Buck didn’t remember falling to his knees next to Jesse. But he was so close. Close enough to reach out and touch him, to see for himself, but fear held him back. Abject terror like he’s never felt gripping his heart.

 

Steve was sobbing now too, and Buck realized distantly that his own face was wet, though he didn’t know when he had started crying.

 

“We can still save him.” Buck said. The words were out of his mouth before he had fully formed the thought, but he stuck by them.  “Steve.” He knew that out of them all, Steve was the most likely to get onboard with the plan immediately. Sure enough, Steve stood too, and they started the movements.

 

They did the movements until they were sweating, and the sun was fully in the sky. BBA took over for Steve when it looked as if he were fit to fall over, but that was when Amy made her way down to them. “Betty! Betty. Oh my god…” Buck and BBA didn’t slow in their movements as Amy took in the scene before her. “What the _fuck_ Betty??” She yelled. “Jesus Christ! I’m sorry, honey.” She apologized as she dialed the phone, calling the sheriff. French went after her, trying to get her to listen to an explanation, but still, Buck and BBA continued the movements.

 

“Shit, come on! We have to hurry, guys.” French ran back to them, falling to his knees beside Jesse and checking for a pulse again.

 

“I don’t think it matter anymore.” Angie said shakily, still holding Jesse’s wrist.

 

“Shut up!” Steve yelled. “It’s gonna work. It’s working.”

 

But even as Steve insisted it was working, Buck knew it wasn’t. If it were, he would be able to feel it. Something would be different. Jesse wouldn’t be still lying there, unmoving and cold. He held back a sob as he finally lowered his sore arms.

 

“C’mon Buck. Don’t stop!” Steve screamed at him. “Why are you stopping??”

 

“I feel like it’s… it’s not working.” Buck told him, exhaustion coursing through his entire body, dragging him down, pulling him towards the earth. Willing him to join Jesse on the sand. To never move again. He hadn’t ever felt anything like this, this soul crushing pain of seeing his friend lying there, dead.

 

“What?” Steve looked between Buck and BBA, who had also stopped her movements. “What do you mean? Homer and OA did them all night for Scott Brown. All night and into the morning. This is Jesse!” He screamed. As if they didn’t know. As if they couldn’t see it. Couldn’t feel it.

 

Steve kept talking, Buck kept wishing for him to shut up. French ended up being the voice of reason through their shared grief. It was time to go.

 

He rounded them up, pushing them each towards the house, towards their escape. He knew it was what they had to do, but he couldn’t help hating them all a little bit for leaving Jesse just lying there in the sand. Hated BBA, Steve, Angie, and even French. But mostly he hated himself. Maybe he could have done the movements longer. Maybe they were only seconds from bringing him back to life. Maybe his faith wasn’t strong enough. Maybe he messed up the movements. Maybe he should have seen the signs long before this happened.

 

French pointed the group towards Amy’s car, then snuck into the house to get the keys. Stealing a car was the least of their worries at this point. If they were caught now, they had worse things to deal with.

 

They piled into the car, French taking the wheel without a word and pulling out of the driveway. Buck watched him and wondered distantly how the night before was really only hours ago. It felt like weeks, years even. He rested his head against the cool glass of the window, watching the road go by. The window had raindrops on it, but it wasn’t currently raining. No, the sky had the audacity to be clear, either mocking or unknowing of their tragedy. He couldn’t be sure which. The window rattled and bumped his head, and he was grateful for the small pain, for the coolness that grounded him. His friends around him were silent. His family. The family he had chosen for himself, as strange of a family as they made. Silent and broken, just like the family he had left behind.


	10. Chapter 10

_Betrayal_. Buck’s whole body vibrated with the thought. The drive to the clinic on Treasure Island. BBA drove, Angie in the passenger seat. That left Buck and French on either side of the backseat. Just because Rahim was helping them didn’t mean that French did the right thing, did it? He didn’t ask anyone, didn’t tell anyone. Didn’t tell him. As the car thundered down the highway, never going above the speed limit as to not attract attention, their silence ruled the car. He could feel French’s eyes on him as he looked out the window, and was grateful when Angie finally reached to turn on the radio. She put it on scan for a bit until a station came up that wasn’t a talk show or on a commercial break. Buck didn’t recognize the pop song that was playing, but Angie turned it up. Not loud, but enough that apparently French felt like this was a good time to try and talk to him.

 

“Buck.” French said quietly. He reached out a hand as if to take Buck’s, but Buck folded his arms and stared stubbornly out the window. “Buck, please.”

 

He felt like his heart was torn in two. First they lost Jesse, then Steve ran off, and then French went behind all of their backs. He was in too much pain to consider even looking at French right then. It might be the thing that finally breaks him, tearing and ripping at the cracks in his soul until he had nothing left.

 

Finally, French pulled his hand back, folding into himself and leaning against the opposite window. Somehow the distance felt wider than the empty seat between them. It felt cavernous.

 

They arrived at their destination at around seven in the evening. BBA pulled the car around the back of the long-abandoned hospital and parked near some overgrown bushes that partially obscured it from view. It was still light out, but as they exited the car, Buck felt shivers go down his spine. He cursed himself for his love of horror movies that was now coming to bite in in the ass.

 

The hospital itself had been abandoned for years, derelict and run down, though the walls looked steady enough. A few of the windows were broken, and the yard was overgrown with weeds and sticker bushes. There was a chain link fence around the entire perimeter and Buck couldn’t tell if it was added after the place shut down or if it was there while the hospital was still in operation. A fence around a hospital seemed weird, but for a mental hospital? Probably more common place. Judging by the graffiti on the walls, the place wasn’t quite as abandoned as it should have been. The brush of French’s jacket as he came to stand beside him was what finally prompted Buck to move from where he had been staring through the fence. The rest of the group followed.

 

It didn’t take long to find a spot in the fence where the wire had been cut at one of the poles, leaving a slit in the fence to push through. Buck ducked under it first, then Angie, followed by French who held it up for BBA to duck under. Once they were all on the correct side (is it the correct side if it’s where they want to be but it’s illegal to be there?) of the fence, they made their way through the long grass and weeds towards the double doors in the back of the building.

 

Buck forced himself not to hesitate at the stairs leading up to the doors, but as he saw the broken latch on the door, he took a moment to steel himself, taking a deep breath before pushing it open. He was glad to have the flashlight in his hand, both for light in the dim hospital, but also as a pseudo weapon. And despite how much French had hurt him, he was a comforting presence at his back. The doors led to a wide hallway with doors on either side. Some were open, some looked still locked up. They slowly made their way down the hall, stirring dust bunnies and peering into rooms as they went. BBA slowly took the lead, a strange look coming over her face.

 

“This way…” She said. She led them down the corridor, around the corner and down another hall until they got to a room with the door cracked open. She slowly pushed the door open and they all crept in. The whole situation seemed to call for quiet, though there was no one around to hear them. Hopefully.

 

The first thing Buck noticed was something huge covered with an old dusty sheet. He reached out and pulled the sheet off, letting it hit the floor in a cloud of dust. “It’s the five-sided aquarium from Homer’s NDE.” Buck stared at the huge fish tank in the middle of the room. The rest of the group converged around it slowly.

 

“It’s also a replica of Hap’s underground prison.” French said, resting a hand on it and leaning in. It was the closest they had come to speaking to each other since French called Elias Rahim. “What’s it mean?” French asked, looking at him. Buck looked away. He didn’t know, and it hurt to look at French right now.

 

Angie was the one who answered. “I don’t know, but Jesse was onto something.”

 

Everyone’s eyes met the ground at that. The fresh wave of pain that rose within them at the mention of his name silencing them all.

 

“We should have listened to him.”

 

Buck spun at the sound of Steve’s voice, shining a flashlight to illuminate his figure.

 

“I should have listened.” Steve continued. He didn’t meet their gazes, didn’t join them in the room. “I need your help.” He said.

 

“All this time…” BBA started, “I thought it was Theo haunting my dreams.” That got Steve’s attention, and he finally looked up from his position by the door. “Theo at the old rehab center. But it was…” She hesitated, “ _you_ , Steven. It was you.”

 

Buck watched their exchange nervously, waiting. For what, he wasn’t sure. But when Steven moved forward to fall into BBA’s embrace, Angie moved to follow, and Buck was quick behind her. French joined them as well, though Buck noticed that where his hand could have fallen on Buck’s shoulder, he moved it up over his head instead so as not to touch him. The hug felt like a healing thing, helping seal the cracks in his soul. Or maybe it was having Steve back in their little group. Their family was broken enough without Jesse. He didn’t want to lose Steve too. And with that thought he realized what he was doing to French. He didn’t like what French did, but French only ever wanted to help the group. What Buck saw as a betrayal, French saw as doing the best thing for them all. And now Buck was pushing him away, hurting not only himself, but more devastatingly, hurting French. Hurting him more and more in the aftermath of losing so much.

 

BBA moved away from the hug, and they all backed off. Buck was so caught up in his emotional turmoil, it took him a moment to process when BBA said, “OA is here.”

 

“What? She’s here?” Steve asked incredulously.

 

“Oh,” Buck realized someone needed to clue Steve in on what he had missed, “BBA can feel across dimensions.”

 

Steve barely had time to process that before BBA continued. “We’re in the right place,” she looked as if she were listening for something only she could hear. “Just the wrong room.”

 

And with that they wandered off, BBA once again taking the lead. It wasn’t far this time, and thankfully, Buck noted as they passed some dark and sketchy looking stairs, also on the ground floor.

 

BBA led them into another room, the door letting out a loud creak as she pushed it open. Buck was right behind her, trying to light her way. He wanted to hang back and talk to French, or grab his hand or _something_. Anything. But now French was giving him his distance and he didn’t want to lose the group by hanging back. So they followed her in. The room had a pool. Of all the things he might have expected, a pool in the middle of a mental hospital was not one of them. It was empty and dirty like the rest of the hospital, the only light coming from a big dirty window with vines growing on the outside of it. But couldn’t tell whether it had gotten darker outside, or if it was just so dirty that the light looked so low.

 

“She’s in here.” BBA announced. She looked around at them. “And so are you.”  Shock flooded Buck’s system, and a quick glance at the others told him they felt the same. “In exactly this place, in another dimension… your bodies are here. But they’re locked in a sleep.” She walked around the pool, the rest of them following. Stopping at the other end, near the window, she placed her hands on the rails and used them to get on her knees, peering into the pool as if to get closer to whatever she was feeling in the other dimension.

 

Suddenly she gasped, looking up. “She’s gone.” She glanced up at them. “She left the room.”

 

“Let’s follow her!” Steve exclaimed, and he and French each grabbed onto her arms to help her up from the floor. As they darted from the room, French grabbed Buck’s hand, maybe unthinkingly. Buck didn’t pull away, happy for the contact that meant French maybe didn’t hate him for having pushed him away so harshly.

 

BBA moved faster than Buck had ever seen her, and they broke into a jog following her back outside. This time she led them out into an enclosed garden area, that was fenced off separately from the rest of the yard. It looked like it was maybe once an area where patients could enjoy being outside without the chance of them wandering off… or running away.

 

They slowed to a stop as BBA turned around, standing in the middle of the clearing. “Now… we have to move.” She repeated it, “We have to move.”

 

Buck let go of French’s hand and they took their places to form a circle, no questions asked. They were ready. For better or worse, they were ready. In unison, they lifted their hands and started the first movement.


	11. Chapter 11

As they completed the fifth and final movement, the wind that had seconds ago been a whirlwind around them, whipping at their faces and shaking the trees, was gone. All was silent. Buck opened his eyes as he lowered his hands and realized that BBA was on the ground.

 

He ran towards her, panic enveloping him. Falling to his knees beside her, he grabbed at her wrist and looked for a pulse. He felt French kneel beside him, waiting. Nothing, nothing…. _There._ Faint, but present. “She’s alive.” Buck told him in relief.

 

“Steve…” French said, and Buck spun to see Steve on the ground too. “He jumped too.” French told him.

 

Angie was with him and answered their wide eyes with a nod. “He’s alive.”

 

Buck felt his body sag in relief. They were alive. Did that mean it didn’t work?

 

Angie voiced his question. “Did it work? Or…” She hesitated. “What now?”

 

Silence for a moment, then finally. “I think now we finally go home.”

 

 

Buck had originally agreed. It was time for them to go home, so they called the cops and let them take care of everything. They took BBA and Steve to the hospital where they remain in a coma, and Buck was delivered into his “loving” parent’s arms.

 

Now he wanted more than anything to take it back. He had basically been on house arrest since he got home, he hadn’t seen Angie or French. Hadn’t been allowed to go to the hospital to see Steve or BBA, and of course, he didn’t have a cell phone because he had allowed Steve to smash it to bits. His “little adventure” as his parents called it, had at least forestalled their move. He knew someone had come to see him, but his father had turned them away. Angie maybe? He hoped it was French, but didn’t expect it was.

 

It was almost midnight, and his parents had both been in bed for over an hour. It was time to go. He grabbed his jacket and quietly made his way to the front door, skipping the floorboard that always creaked and grabbing his shoes before quietly slipping out the door.

 

The cool night air was a relief from the stifling feeling of the house. He slipped his shoes and jacket on before taking off. He was going to the house. If nobody was there, he would just go find them himself.

 

Luck was on his side though, and he found French and Angie sitting on the second floor of the unfinished house. They both stood when he came up the stairs, and Angie moved forward to hug him. He hugged her back, relieved to find them both there.

 

She stepped back and they all joined together to stand in a small circle.

 

Angie broke the quiet. “What now?”

 

“Well…” Buck started, “We did it, right? They jumped?”

 

Angie nodded. “It must have worked, otherwise they would still be here with us.”

 

French nodded too. “There’s no other explanation for why they’re both in comas right now.”

 

“So… We what? Just move on with our lives? Forget it ever happened?” Angie questioned, waving her hands around almost angrily.

 

Buck tucked his own hands into his pockets, the late-night weather making him shiver.

 

“What else are we supposed to do?” French asked.

 

“We could follow them, for one.” Angie suggested.

 

Buck looked at her, surprised. “You want to follow them?”

 

“Why not?” She asked, “Like we all have so much here to live for.”

 

“It’s… an option.” French said slowly.

 

Buck looked at him in shock. “You want to follow them too?”

 

“I didn’t say that. I don’t know.” He shrugged helplessly. “I just. What do you want to do?”

 

It was Buck’s turn to shrug. “I don’t know either. Nothing like this has ever happened before, possibly ever. There’s not even any way of knowing if we can get back if we do go. And what if…”

 

“What if what?” French questioned.

 

“What if we jump and we can’t find each other? What if we jump, and we’re all alone?” He asked.

 

“That won’t happen.” Angie said firmly.

 

“How do you know that though? You don’t know that.” Buck insisted.

 

She didn’t have an answer.

 

As they sat there in silence for a little longer, Buck couldn’t help throwing a couple glances at French, who was staring at the floor.

 

Finally, she said, “Look, I’m going to leave you two here to talk about whatever _this_ is.” Motioning between them. Buck blushed and turned his gaze to the ground as she got up to leave. “I’ll be here again tomorrow night.”

 

It was quiet after she left. For one minute… two minutes… then Buck said, “I’m sorry.”

 

At the same time French said, “Buck, I-”

 

They looked at each other, “What?” French asked him.

 

“I’m sorry.” Buck repeated.

 

French looked incredulous. “No. _I’m_ sorry. I never should have called Elias without telling anyone. I thought I was doing what was best for the group and-”

 

“You _were_.” Buck interrupted. “I just didn’t see it then. I was so mad at you for going behind our backs, behind _my_ back-”

 

“I know,” French interrupted him back, “I went behind your back and I betrayed your trust and I-”

 

“Stop!” Buck commanded.

 

French shut his mouth, eyes wide. Buck reached out and laid a hand on French’s arm. “I understand why you did what you did. And I forgive you. I’m sorry for ignoring you.” He said emphatically.

 

Buck was horrified to see French’s eyes well with tears. Horrified that he put them there. “I thought you hated me.” He whispered.

 

Buck forced down the sob that threatened to escape and launched himself into French’s arms, throwing his arms around his shoulders and burying his face in his neck. French wasted no time in wrapping his arms around Buck’s waist, holding him as tight as he could. “I missed you.” French told him through tears.

 

Despite his best efforts, Buck was crying too. “I know, I’m sorry, I missed you too.” He cried. Then he kissed French’s neck, jaw, cheek, mouth. Then they were kissing. And oh, how he had missed this. The taste of him was intoxicating. The warmth of him addicting in this chilly house. Buck felt like a part of him that had been missing for days had been returned at long last. Buck found he couldn’t get close enough, already on his tip toes to press as much of himself into French as he could.

 

French pulled away, just far enough to speak, their noses still touching. “I love you, Buck.”

 

Buck smiled through the tears that were still streaming down his face, tears of joy now. “I love you too.” He said, and French buried his face in the crook of his neck, nearly shaking with palpable relief. “I love you.” He repeated. “And whatever comes, whatever we decide to do, we figure it out together, do it together, yeah?”

 

French kissed him lightly, “Together.” He said.


End file.
